


Walk Through Fire

by GlitterGoth114



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Sansa Stark, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sandor Clegane, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Reunions, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24070753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterGoth114/pseuds/GlitterGoth114
Summary: Sansa Stark swore she'd never return to Kings Landing now that she's safe in Winterfell. When Jon calls for her presence at a meeting between the Lions and the Dragon, she has little choice but to obey.Sandor Clegane was done with flames until he glimpsed a face in the fire he couldn't resist. He'd do anything to see his Little Bird again, even return to Kings Landing.Sansa is once again surrounded by enemies and strangers, and Sandor is the only one she can trust.AU where Sansa attends the meeting in the Season 7 finale
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 163





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I haven't read this far in the books yet, so this story is show canon. The deeper into the SanSan fandom I fall, the more disappointed I am wed with the 8x04 reunion the show gave us, so here's my own little fix-it. Hope you enjoy and please review!
> 
> Also, I didn't want to sit there and copy word for word scenes that I don't plan to change. I've included lines I felt were important, or that gave indication of what's happening. But if any readers don't watch the show and don't know what the hell I'm going for, comment and let me know and I will add the dialogue.

Sansa stood on a high wall, gazing out at the lands that surrounded Winterfell. Her cloak fluttered around her and her hood was drawn up against the winds; she couldn't feel her nose and was sure that her lips must be blue by now. Fine snow dusted the battlements around her, but was not yet falling so thickly that she couldn't see the horizon. 

She kept her expression carefully controlled, though no one was around to see it; she was beginning to grow annoyed. It was so like her devilish little sister to keep her waiting longer than necessary. 

And as though Arya had sensed Sansa's thoughts, she suddenly appeared at her sister's elbow as though from thin air. 

"Big sister." Arya greeted with a slight nod, turning to gaze at the smooth expanse of land as well. 

"Little sister." Sansa replied with a small smile. 

They stood in silence for a companionable few moments. Sansa knew her sister was either desperately curious, or already knew the contents of the scroll she'd received that morning, and couldn't help delay a moment longer to see if Arya would reveal what she knew. 

Sansa glanced sideways at her sister; Arya's arms were folded behind her back, as usual. Her dark hair was in a knot at the nape of her neck, reminiscent to how Jon and their Lord Father wore their hair. Sansa still wasn't used to seeing Arya in clothing designed for men, with multiple weapons strapped to her small body. 

She was reluctant to admit that she'd been slightly jealous when Arya revealed that her sword, Needle, had been a gift from Jon before they left for King's Landing all those years ago; none of her brothers had thought to give her a parting gift, afterall. She couldn't fully blame them, of course. She'd been terrible to Jon, copying her Lady Mother's unfair disdain for the Bastard of Winterfell, and Robb had been entirely preoccupied with the notion that he would become Lord of Winterfell in their father's lengthy absence. Theon hadn't been a brother to her until much later, when he'd aided her escape from Ramsay. 

She knew her jealousy was unfair, but it forced the reminder that she was family to Jon and Arya, and even Bran, in name only: she didn't have a bond like they did, and it made her feel like an intruder in her own home. 

Arya turned her head to meet Sansa's gaze now, and Sansa almost flinched. She recalled with a suppressed shudder the observation Petyr Baelish had made only two days before. 

_"You school your expression, sweet Sansa, but your eyes betray what you truly feel."_ Petyr had whispered in her ear. _"Your sister is your opposite in every way; her demeanor appears pleasant, while her eyes remain blank and unfeeling."_

Sansa was wise enough to know that Petyr was afraid that Arya's arrival in Winterfell would push him away from being her sole confidant, as Sansa let him believe he was. Sansa had played along, inventing suspicions of her sister, and smirked to herself whenever evidence to prove her invented suspicions were correct always materialized within a day. She wasn't a stupid little bird anymore, though she was happy to pretend so for Lord Baelish's sake for as long as would be necessary. 

"Are you going to show me the scroll?" Arya asked, finally breaking the silence. 

"So you _do_ know?" Sansa asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

"I know that you received a message from Jon. I don't know what it says." Arya admitted, turning back to the land in front of them. 

Sansa produced the scrap of parchment and handed it to her sister, who took it eagerly. She watched Arya's eyes scan the words. Her brow furrowed, and she read them again. 

"Jon sent a summons? To King's Landing?" Arya frowned at the paper suspiciously. 

"That is Jon's hand." Sansa confirmed with a nod. 

Arya's frown deepened as she read the note again, her lips moving slightly as she read the words. Arya raised an eyebrow at the parchment, and Sansa suppressed a smile as she turned back to the expanse of land before them, giving Arya time to process all the potential meanings of Jon's letter. 

Several minutes later, Arya sighed heavily and held the scrap out to Sansa again. She took it and quickly tucked it away under her cloak. Arya was staring unseeingly at the land before them, her lips parted slightly. Nothing in her expression or posture gave any indication of what she was feeling, but Sansa could practically feel the thoughts zooming around her little sister's head. 

"What will you do?" Arya asked finally. 

Sansa hesitated. "I'd like to send you and Brienne to represent my interests." She said finally, forcing herself not to glance at her little sister. 

"I've only just returned home." Arya said. "And the note requested the Lady of Winterfell." 

"I don't want to go back there." Sansa whispered, not even feeling ashamed or embarrassed as her voice cracked; only Arya was there to witness it, afterall. 

"Cersei will take it as a slight." Arya reminded her. "Sending someone in your stead would be more suspicious to her than no response at all." 

"Jon will be there." Sansa said. "I'm sure you and Brienne will be safe." 

"And what will become of you, if Brienne and I are away for so long? I'll not leave you here with Littlefinger." 

Sansa grimaced. "Do you think so little of me, sister? That I might bend to Petyr's will without you and Brienne here to protect me?" 

"You know that's not what I meant." Arya replied sternly, painfully reminding Sansa of their father. "You said yourself that was Jon's own hand, and he asked for you. He asked for the Lady of Winterfell." Arya took Sansa's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You know he never would've asked you to go back there if it wasn't of utmost importance that you obey." 

"I won't go back there alone." Sansa said thickly, trying to disguise the tears threatening to overcome her. 

"Who said anything about being alone?" Arya grinned at her. "You'll have Brienne and Podrick. And me. Even Littlefinger and Lord Royce." 

Sansa flashed an inquisitive glance to her sister, who laughed heartily and squeezed her hand again before releasing it. 

"We can't very well leave Littlefinger here to rule Winterfell unsupervised." Arya said with a smirk. 

Sansa sighed, knowing Arya would take the sound as an agreement, and the sisters turned as one back to the horizon. 

"We'll leave at first light." Sansa stated, having regained her composure. 

Arya grinned again. "As my lady commands." 

***

Sandor was bored. It was terrible, he knew, surrounded by imminent death as they were. But it was true. Their little group had survived the first cold night, surrounded by the most impenetrable darkness he'd ever encountered. 

He'd kept watch, volunteered to do so, even. But he regretted it immensely as the ginger haired Wildling cunt had frequently suggested they'd all be better off stripping bare and huddling together for warmth. He'd threatened to slit his throat more than once, but the Wildling seemed undeterred. 

He'd suffered through the Bastard King in the North and the ginger Wildling recounting to the rest of their party how he had retaken Winterfell. The circumstances that had led them to do so. Sandor's blood had boiled beneath his skin, hearing the way Jon Snow described how the Little Bird had been sold, wedded, and bedded. 

"She's strong." He'd heard the bastard tell the other members of the party. "She flinched at first, even when I touched her. But she's strong."

Sandor was conflicted over his rage; on one hand, he'd assumed the girl dead for years, and couldn't deny he was ecstatic to hear she'd survived… on the other, hearing of how she'd been sold and raped made him want to curl up on the ground and sob over his failure to protect her. 

It was their third morning on the blasted little island, when he couldn't stand the blubbering over the frozen Thoros of Myr a moment longer, that he'd picked up a rock and chucked it, hard as he could towards the dead army that surrounded them. 

He huffed out a short laugh when the bastard's head flew clean off his body. The other members of the party had shifted uncomfortably, but none spoke to stop him as he selected a second stone. Just as he wound back to throw it, the hesitant hand of Ser Jorah Mormont on his forearm made him falter. But the stone still left his hand, and skittered across the ice, coming to rest just inches before a dead soldier. 

The dead soldier looked down at it curiously, then back at their group on the rock that made an island. 

"Oh, _fuck me._ " Sandor breathed. 

A wight moved forward, lumbering awkwardly and dragging its sword on the ground behind it. Sandor heard the unmistakable sounds of the group behind him rousing, drawing their blades and bracing themselves. 

As the first wight drew closer and closer, others began to follow. Sandor's heart was beating out of his chest as he looked around wildly at the dead soldiers advancing from every direction. 

This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought wildly as death approached. He'd seen their icy blue eyes in the flames, when Thoros urged him forward to look; he'd seen the wall; he'd even seen dragons. But the thing that made him act, the thing that made him agree to going along with these fire worshipping fools, was that he'd seen the little bird. She'd appeared older, her face had sharper angles, but it was her. He'd tried to blink her away as he stared, but she remained, without a doubt, looking over her shoulder at him in the flames. If he died here, that meant the vision that led him here had been some kind of trick. 

"Fuck it." He grunted hoarsely, and threw himself from the rock into the crowd of approaching corpses, swinging his axe wildly and watching them shatter and scatter around him. 

He wouldn't die here, he was determined. He'd thought himself insane, but willing to take the risk, when he'd agreed to go north after seeing his little bird in the flames. But now that he'd heard, from her own brother's mouth, that she was alive? There wasn't a thing in the world that would've made him give up without seeing her again. 

He could hear the shouts of his companions around him as they, too, leapt into the oncoming crowd. He wasn't worried that any might be near him though, as his axe thrashed and swung wildly through the air. 

"Fall back!" He heard Jon Snow yell. 

He chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw his companions quickly being overrun by the animated corpses. He inched back towards their little island, not sure what else he could do at this point, when he heard a shrieking cry that made the hairs on his neck stand up. He swung his axe as forcefully as he could with a roar as his gaze lifted to the sky. 

He gasped as the shape of the three dragons solidified before him. He watched in wonder as they spit unyielding streams of fire down onto the army of the undead, shuddering despite how far away they were. The largest dragon, the black one, was screeching in earnest and circling downward to their little rock island. His breath caught as he fought his way back to the rock, still swinging wildly at everything in his way. 

He had no idea how he'd ended up on the dragon's back, clutching the horns along it's spine and burying his face in it's scales. He had no idea what had made the Dragon Queen scream in anguish as harsh, short dragon cries split the air around them. He felt a great tremor in the earth, and raised his face enough to see that the yellow dragon had fallen, and was slipping slowly beneath the ice that they stood upon. 

He gaped at the spot where the dragon disappeared, and was barely able to tighten his grip as the black dragon they'd all clambered onto took flight. He wasn't even fully aware when his arm shot out to catch Ser Jorah when he'd begun to fall, just that Beric and the Wildling cunt were clinging on to him, as Ser Jorah dangled from his hand. 

He'd stumbled away when the dragon finally landed again, back on the right side of the wall. He'd felt his companions hands on his shoulders and arms as he stumbled away. He didn't register their words. And only some 10 meters away from where the black dragon landed, he'd fallen to his knees and retched like he never had before, clutching his stomach.

He had no idea how long he'd sat there, gasping on his hands and knees in the snow; just that it was the Wildling that finally grasped his elbow and wrenched him to his feet. 

"Come along, friend." The Wildling had murmured comfortingly. "I got you." 

Sandor had let the Wildling lead him inside to a bath, and pulled away from his grasp only when he felt the man begin to pull at the buckles of his armor, as though he meant to undress him. The Wildling raised his hands in mock surrender as Sandor snarled at him. 

"I'll let you take it from here, then." The Wildling chuckled. 

Sandor glared at him again as he began to remove his own armor, much more forcefully than necessary. He thought the wild man had long left, but just as Sandor had stripped the last of his clothing and was about to ease himself into the steaming water, he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"You don't make it through shit like that without brothers." The Wildling mused, squeezing Sandor's shoulder but gazing off into the distance. "When you come through some nightmarish bullshit like that…" the Wildling shuddered, then looked down at Sandor's face. "The men you made it with become your family." 

"Don't need a fucking family." Sandor snarled up at the wild man with a murderous glare. 

"Aye, don't suppose you do." The Wildling replied solemnly, looking down at him. "But you have one now." 

The wild man squeezed his shoulder again, and Sandor glowered at the man as he retreated before finally lowering himself into his bath.


	2. Gathering

Sansa stood on the hill, regarding the castle she'd once been so excited to inhabit, and then so excited to escape. She didn't understand her own feelings about the Red Keep, therefore couldn't confide them to any of her traveling companions. 

"Do you ever wish we could go back?" 

Sansa jumped and spun, clutching her chest as she took in the sight of the smirking assassin that was her baby sister. 

"Gods, Arya!" Sansa objected scornfully. "Stop sneaking up on me like that!" 

"I wish every day we could go back to the day we left." Arya said, not acknowledging Sansa's scolding. "I wish we could each take one of fathers arms, drag him back and beg him not to go." 

Sansa sighed, turning away from her sister to look back at the looming shape of the Red Keep. 

"Everything would be different if we never came here." Sansa agreed softly. 

Without speaking, the sisters found each other's hands, squeezing tightly as they silently regarded the castle that had begun the downfall of their family. 

"I'm going ahead." Arya said after a while. She smirked when Sansa's head snapped around. "I don't believe this little meeting will go smoothly. I'm going to scope out the Keep, make sure that Cersei isn't planning some kind of trick." 

Just as Sansa was about to object, Arya turned her face away and brought her free hand up to her jaw, gripping the skin there. A moment later, an unfamiliar serving girl stood in Arya's place, still squeezing Sansa's hand. 

"Fear not, big sister." The girl said. "I will be at the meeting." 

The serving girl gave Sansa a cheeky smile, then skipped away down the hill towards the Red Keep.

***

Sandor sat on the deck of the ship, the waves and harsh wind feeling almost blissful. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd ended up on a boat bound for King's Landing while Beric and Tormund had remained behind, but knew it had something to do with overhearing Jon Snow declare that his sister would be at the meeting. 

It was only now, as he watched the shape of the Red Keep grow closer and clearer, that he realized the bastard might not have been referring to the little bird. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if Sansa and Arya were Jon Snow's only sisters. 

He was sitting on the edge of the ship, one leg dangling over the side, when the Imp approached. 

"Welcome home, Clegane." The Imp said solemnly. 

"I left this shit city because I didn't want to die in it." Sandor responded without looking at the dwarf. "Am I going to die in this shit city?" 

"You might." Tyrion agreed. 

"Seems every bad idea has some Lannister cunt behind it." 

"And some Clegane cunt to see it through." 

His head snapped around to grimace at the Imp when he reminded him of Gregor's continued standing with the Kingsguard, but Tyrion was already waddling away. Sandor sighed heavily. This ragtag group had accepted him into their folds, made him part of their family. And here he was, still snapping and threatening them when they attempted to treat him with basic human kindness. 

Sandor shook the foolish thoughts from his head. They hadn't accepted the man Sandor Clegane; they had accepted a huge, menacing warrior who could frighten away the bravest men with a scowl. 

Sandor frowned as the ship docked; more than once he'd snarled at one of the Dragon Queen's Dothraki guards, and they'd looked merely bored at the demonstration. Mayhap he wasn't as fearsome as he thought anymore. 

Sandor hung back as the rest of the group left the ship, then followed cautiously, taking the reins of the donkey that hauled the crate with a wight towards the stupid little fucking meeting.

Their group came upon Lannister soldiers, a smug looking cunt greeting them, then falling into step with the Imp. He'd been more curious to see the huge blonde bitch Brienne of fucking Tarth, and outright surprised when she'd hesitated long enough to walk beside him. 

"Thought you were dead." She snapped without looking at him. 

"Not yet." He suppressed a smirk. 

"I only wanted to protect her." He sensed an air of defensiveness about the woman. 

"And what the buggering fuck do you think I was doing?" He snarled at her. 

They walked in silence for a few moments. 

"She's alive. Arya." 

Sandor hesitated. "Where?" 

"Somewhere around here." Brienne glanced around them, looking slightly unnerved. 

"And who's protecting her if you're here?"

Brienne smirked. "The only one who needs protecting, is the one who gets in her way." 

Sandor couldn't help the pride he felt bubbling in his chest. "Won't be me." 

He glanced sideways at Brienne of fucking Tarth, just in time to see her glancing sideways at him, and knew that she was no threat to the Stark girls he'd come to care so much about. 

The group finally entered the Dragon Pit, the Lannister soldiers spreading out along the edges, glancing nervously over their shoulders at the Dothraki men that stayed right on their heels. 

Three huge tents had been erected in the middle of the pit; one obviously for Cersei and her company, one for the Dragon Queen and her guards and advisors, and under the third stood his little bird. 

His breath caught and his step faltered when he saw her. Brienne of Tarth shot him a curious look, then went to the little bird's side, stooping to whisper in her ear. The girl nodded once, expressionless, then turned back to the men she'd been speaking to. He recognized Littlefinger; he instantly preferred the other man, who had white hair and a bulging belly, but regarded his little bird with a kind smile. 

As his group entered the pit, the little bird looked around. For a heart stopping moment, he thought she flashed a dazzling smile at him. But no, she hurried towards and threw herself into the arms of the Greyjoy boy. Sandor grimaced and averted his eyes, but not before he saw his little bird press a chaste kiss to the Greyjoy whelps forehead. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Bastard King approach them, and the little bird accepted him into her arms as well. 

He gave the crate he was carting along a kick, and smirked when the Lannister soldiers flanking him fell back at the wights shriek. 

Cersei and her entourage entering the pit briefly commanded everyone's attention, and Sandor swallowed heavily before taking his place behind the chair the Dragon Queen would soon inhabit, feeling it was a betrayal to his little bird, even though she hadn't even looked at him. 

He was stock still as he watched Cersei, flanked by his brother, and hers, take their places under their tent. He glanced at the Imp, who gave him a slight nod, and Sandor turned his back and went back to the crate. 

He couldn't hear the words exchanged under the tents, but inferred that Cersei and the Imp were exchanging insults. Before he could make another move, he heard the unmistakable sound of dragon cries. He flattened himself against the stone wall as best he could, taking deep breaths as the huge black dragon that he himself had ridden, landed in the pit and lowered its wing to to let the silver queen dismount. 

He watched with bated breath as Daenerys approached the group, and was surprised to see that the Greyjoy boy stayed with the Dragon Queen, while Jon Snow stayed with his sister. He did a double take; somehow Arya now stood beside his little bird as well. He was sure she hadn't been there just a moment before. 

He waited back against his wall for Tyrion to turn and gesture for him to approach. He slung the crate across his shoulders and carried it forward, uncomfortably aware that everyone's eyes were on him. He set the crate on the ground, and intentionally kept his back to the Stark girls as he pulled the latches and pushed away the top of the crate. He hesitated, steeling himself, then gave the crate a swift kick. 

The wight tumbled from the crate and hurtled toward Cersei with a screech. Sandor was almost amused as he watched the animated corpse run for the woman he despised more than anything, giving a swift tug to the chain just as it could almost reach her. The wight shrieked again, tumbling to the ground. Then it raised its head toward Sansa. He felt his heart stop as the wight scrambled to its feet and lunged for his little bird. 

Even as he yanked the chain with a roar, Jon Snow and Arya both rose to their feet and placed themselves between Sansa and the wight, drawing their swords as one. Even the Greyjoy boy was on his feet. 

The wight spun towards Sandor now, snarling and hissing, and he drew his sword in anticipation, swiftly slicing the corpse in two as it neared him, then swinging again to remove its arm. He took a couple steps back as various attendees sprung into action, and his eyes found his little bird. She was still seated, one white-knuckled hand gripping the arm of her chair, the other pressed to her chest, staring in alarm at the wight. 

Jon Snow walked away from his sisters and picked up the wights hand, demonstrating the various ways to kill it and making some fucking speech about what matters and The Great War. Sandor walked towards the little birds group, standing off to the side near Brienne of Tarth. He was trying hard to listen to the leaders as Euron Greyjoy tucked tail and ran, as Cersei spoke to Daenerys, but his eyes kept pulling back to stare at Sansa. 

"I ask it only of Ned Stark's son. I know he will be true to his word." Cersei was saying now. 

Arya and Sansa both turned to look expectantly at the man in question. Jon looked at his sisters, then at the Dragon Queen, then finally turned back to Cersei. 

There was a long pause before he spoke. "I am true to my word… or I try to be." He hesitated again. "That is why I cannot give you what you ask." 

The Stark sisters both stiffened. 

"I cannot serve two queens, and I've already pledged myself and the North to Queen Daenerys of house Targaryen." 

Sansa was on her feet, staring at Jon, a mix of hurt and anger on her pale face. Arya put a hand on her sister's arm, and Jon glanced at them apologetically. The silence was palpable as Cersei stared at Jon. 

Cersei spat some harsh words and threats as she stormed away, her entourage close behind her. Brienne of Tarth marched after them and seized Jaime Lannister's arm, pulling him back. The group watched as Brienne implored the knight, and heaved a collective sigh when he pulled away and followed Cersei. 

"I wish you hadn't done that." Davos addressed Snow from beside Clegane. 

"I appreciate your loyalty." Daenerys said as she approached Snow. "But my dragon died so that we could be here." 

"I'm pleased you bent the knee to our queen." The Imp said now, and Snow sighed and hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would've advised it, had you asked." He turned back around and raised his voice in frustration. "But have you ever considered learning how to lie once in a while? Just a bit?" 

Snow spun on his heel to face the Imp and took a couple steps forward. "I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold." 

"You wouldn't have had to." Sansa spoke for the first time and Snow froze. "If only you'd waited to consult your council before pledging us all to another queen." 

Jon turned slowly to look at his sister, his eyes wide. Sansa glared at him murderously. 

"Sansa…" Jon started, shaking his head. 

"After everything we've been through?" Sansa cut him off, approaching her brother. "Everything we've suffered, everything we lost to get our home back, and you just gave it away again?" 

"I didn't-" Jon started, but Sansa stormed past him, back to the entrance of the pit. "Sansa!" He ran forward and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her around to look at him. 

"Don't!" Sansa shouted, wrenching her arm free. Jon dropped his arm so his side and took a step back when he saw his sister's face. Her anger was fading, now she looked heartbroken and her eyes filled with tears. "How could you?" She asked in a broken whisper, then spun around and hurried away. 

Arya approached Jon more slowly, lingering by his side as they both watched Sansa disappear up the path. 

"Arya…" he started. 

She shook her head, then looked up at Jon with a sad smile that said she agreed with every word Sansa said. "Don't make her get married again." 

Jon's eyebrows shot up as he looked at Arya in horror. Arya turned and followed her sister out of the pit before he could say a word. The Greyjoy boy made to follow them, and Sandor had thought to do the same, but Daenerys put a hand out to stop him. 

"Let her go." The Dragon Queen instructed Theon. "Give her time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	3. Reunited

Sansa's heart was pounding in her ears as she hurried away from the Dragon Pit. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes, but she had to keep them at bay until she was certain no one had followed her. 

She knew she should've waited to confront Jon until they were alone, but it burst out of her before she could stop it. And then the bewildered look on Jon's face when he'd turned to face her, like he'd assumed she would be on board with his decision had infuriated her and spurred her to continue. 

She lifted her skirts higher and broke into a jog as a sob escaped her, vaguely recognizing her surroundings as she made it to the Red Keep's garden. She needed to be alone, completely alone, so she could break down, and only one spot had come to mind. 

"Sansa!" 

She heard Arya's shout behind her and slowed down. She knew Arya would catch her eventually, and she'd at least called out instead of sneaking up on her. 

Arya caught up to her quickly, and Sansa felt the first tear fall down her cheek. Arya gave her a sympathetic frown that made Sansa want to yell again, but accepted her sister's comforting hand on her elbow.

"Are you alright?" Arya asked eventually. 

Sansa laughed harshly in response, even as she used her sleeve to mop up her tears. 

Arya grimaced. "I know this isn't what we wanted… I'm angry too." 

Sansa glared down at Arya, daring her with her eyes to continue. Arya, of course, did not back down. 

"We need ally's, Sansa." Arya said earnestly. "I know he should've waited, he should've spoken to us first… but we have too much on the line to take risks, and she has dragons. Dragons, Sansa. If fire is what kills those fuckers, we need her." 

She knew Arya was right, but she still tugged her arm free of her sister's grasp and avoided her gaze. Arya was quiet for a few moments, and Sansa could feel her sister's curious eyes on her face. 

"Is this about Ramsay?" Arya finally asked. 

Sansa's head snapped back around to glare daggers at Arya. Her hands balled into fists and she clenched her jaw as she waited for her little sister to back down, to apologize. Arya did neither, looking up at her sister with what could only be described as pity. That made Sansa even angrier. 

"I need to be alone for awhile." Sansa said briskly, turning away from Arya. "I will be back at camp by nightfall. Don't send anyone after me." 

She took a few confident steps away, before she faltered and looked back at Arya with tear filled eyes. 

"Arya… please don't send anyone. I'll be fine." 

She turned and hurried away before Arya could respond, hoping her sister would heed her request. She walked for several minutes, to ensure her sister had not followed, before she ducked through one of the many archways that lead right to Maegor's Holdfast. She didn't meet anyone, no guards or servants, and before she knew it, she had reached her destination. 

She stood in the hall outside her old chambers for a long moment, before she gathered the courage to enter. She pushed the door shut behind her, then turned to take in the room. The room was both foreign and familiar; she recognized the furniture under the thick layer of dust that coated it, but all of her personal belongings had been moved to the chamber that she'd shared with Tyrion upon their marriage. 

She moved slowly across the room and opened the doors to the little patio. It was scarcely wide enough for a bench, but she'd spent more time there than anywhere else during her time in King's Landing. The view was breathtaking, looking out towards the Narrow Sea. 

Sansa stood on the patio, just past the doorway, and gazed out onto the sea. She used to take so much comfort from this exact view; whenever everything became too much, she would always stand at this exact spot and look at the ocean. It calmed her then, reminded her how small she was, how insignificant she was in the God's plans, and somehow that had made it easier to accept her reality. The Gods weren't neglecting her, she'd always realize, they just had too much on their minds right now to look after her. 

She felt no such comfort now. By this point, she was fairly certain that either the Gods didn't exist, or that they simply enjoyed mocking her. 

She closed her eyes and breathed the salty air, trying hard to push everything from her mind and find the comfort she came here for. But she felt nothing, and her tears poured out of her without permission. She clutched the doorway with one hand as she doubled over with her sobs so she wouldn't fall to the ground. 

Had she been a joke all along? Was her destiny always to be cast aside, belittled, and abused? She thought she was finally safe after she and Jon retook Winterfell, but clearly his thoughts did not dwell on her safety. How could he be so willing to offer their home and lands to a stranger? How could he do so without even telling ever, let alone ask her opinion? How could he be so careless, so reckless, with everything they'd fought for? 

She fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands, wanting nothing more than to scream wordlessly into oblivion until her voice was too hoarse to continue. But all that came out was her broken and breathless sobs. 

She had no idea how long she'd knelt there on the ground when she heard heavy footfalls. She took a few gasping breaths as they drew closer, willing them to pass by the room without hearing her. But the steps came to a stop outside her door, and she knew at once who they must belong to; only two people from the meeting knew where her old chambers were, and there was no way those heavy steps had been made by Tyrion Lannister. 

***

Watching the little bird and wolf bitch leave the Dragon Pit had tested every ounce of Sandor's restraint. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run after them, to sweep both girls into his arms, and swear no one would ever hurt them again. But it wasn't just his restraint that was tested; what if they pushed him away? What if they spat out that they didn't need him? That he hadn't protected them the first time, what good could he possibly bring them now? 

And so Sandor watched them go, even as his hands twitched with the need to reach for them and shield them in his arms. They'd both disappeared some time ago, and he'd stared unseeingly at the ground before him while the others argued over what to do. He was vaguely aware that the Imp had gone to speak to his sister, and everyone else simply wandered about as they waited for him. 

His head snapped up when unfamiliar voices had called for Snow and the Dragon Queen, and he saw the Imp walking back towards them. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Cersei and her company following a few yards behind the Imp, but Brienne of fucking Tarth voiced his concern before he could.

"Where is Lady Sansa?" Brienne called, alarm in her voice. 

Jon Snow looked around as though Sansa might jump out from behind a chair, then his gaze rested on Brienne with concern clear on his face. There was a ripple of murmuring through the meetings attendees, as each realized that Sansa had not returned. 

Sandor looked back at Cersei as she approached, then heaved a great sigh, cursing himself. 

"I know where she is." He grunted, just loud enough for Snow and the blonde bitch to hear, before he pushed off the wooden pole he leaned on and started in the direction the little bird had fled. 

"Clegane?" Snow called after him. 

"You're needed here, Snow." Clegane said, then his gaze shifted to Brienne. "As are you." 

Both hesitated, then nodded once. Sandor resisted the urge to roll his eyes, then continued on his way to find the little bird. He refused to glance towards Cersei and her guards, and passed them without resistance. He had just entered the Red Keeps garden and hurried his stride when he heard a soft voice.

"Hound." 

He stopped and turned his head, finding the younger Stark sister sitting on a bench. 

"Wolf bitch." He nodded to her. 

He almost thought he saw a smile flash across her face before she controlled her expression. 

"Thought you were dead." She said after a moment, giving him a curious look. 

Sandor scoffed. "Would've been if you weren't such a cold little bitch." He tried to scowl, but based on the smile that broke across her face, he hadn't succeeded. 

Arya rose from the bench and approached him, then broke his gaze to look upon the path Sansa must've followed. 

"She's broken, Sandor." Arya said softly. 

He stiffened, and tried to convince himself it was because of the wolf bitch using his given name. She never had before. 

"She needs help." Arya continued. "But I don't know how to give it to her. I don't understand the pain she's endured. I don't know what to do." 

She turned her wide, brown eyes back to his face, and Sandor forced himself to meet her gaze. 

"Go back to your brother." Sandor instructed after a long moment. "Let me take care of your sister." 

Arya nodded once, and started back towards the Dragon Pit. 

"Sandor?" She called after a few seconds, and he turned to look at her. "Don't make her worse." 

He felt his stomach drop, but nodded once. The younger Stark sister seemed pacified, and she hurried back along the path to the Dragon Pit. Sandor watched her go, then turned back to the Red Keep and continued on his way. 

It felt like it had only been a few seconds when he reached the little birds old chambers, and he felt like he was frozen to the spot. What would he say to her? How could he comfort her? He wasn't a bloody bard or a poet, after all; he was a warrior, a brutally honest oaf. He might've known where to find her, but he certainly had no idea how to calm her. 

What felt like an eternity later, he finally opened the door and slipped inside. He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, then turned to face the room. 

His breath caught again. 

Sansa was kneeling in the doorway to the small patio. Her black dress was pooled around her feet, and she seemed to be staring out at the water. 

Sandor stayed back against the door, unsure whether she'd heard him enter and not wanting to startle her. 

Finally, she spoke. 

"Who sent you?" She asked. 

"No one." He replied at once. 

He saw the movement in her shoulders and knew she'd scoffed. 

"They wondered where you went." He explained, daring to take a couple steps forward. "But no one else knew where you might've gone." 

He was sure this time that he saw her soft laugh, but he still didn't hear it. He stood several feet from her, watching her curiously. He didn't speak for several minutes, until it was clear Sansa didn't intend to move. 

"What has you troubled, little bird?" He asked softly. 

She said nothing for a long moment, then looked over her shoulder at him. He almost gasped; it was exactly what he'd seen in the fire. He tried not to let the shock show on his face, and she gave no indication she'd seen it. 

She broke his gaze before she spoke. "We fought so hard to get back what was taken from us. And he gave it away like it was nothing." She turned back to the sea and fell silent. 

Sandor raised his good eyebrow. Used to be she wouldn't shut the fuck up, now she only spoke two sentences? He waited for her to continue, but it seemed she didn't intend to. He shook his head a little, then finally approached her for true. He pulled up a chair and sat it behind her next to the doorframe, where he could see her face. 

She didn't look at him, but he couldn't tear his eyes from her. The angles of her face were sharper now, and she wore her hair in the northern style, pulled back from her temples with a braided bun and loose curls hanging down her back. She was older, and wiser. For a moment he thought to push her against the wall and spit harsh words in her face like he used to, but that wouldn't work on her anymore. 

"No harsh words or insults?" She asked suddenly, one side of her mouth curling up slightly. 

Sandor chuckled. "Nothing comes to mind, no." 

She looked at him again, with curiosity. He shifted a little, uncomfortable with her probing look. 

"What're you staring at, girl? Thought you couldn't bear to look at me." 

"That was a long time ago. I've seen much worse than you since then." She said softly. "And I was staring because I've never heard you laugh before." 

"Don't suppose you have." He mumbled, uncomfortable with how her gaze seemed to pierce him. 

"You seem different." She said finally, turning her gaze back to the water. 

"As do you." 

The corner of her mouth turned up again briefly, but she didn't respond. They sat in silence for another few minutes before Sandor spoke again. 

"So your brother bent the knee to the Dragon Bitch. What would you have had him do?" Sandor asked. 

"He should've spoken to me and Arya first." She replied coolly. 

"Aye, and what would you have told him?" 

"That the North must remain independent. That's the only way to stay safe." She said immediately. 

"Do you truly believe that?" Sandor raised his good eyebrow, and Sansa looked back at him, puzzled. "You think the Dragon Queen doesn't want all Seven Kingdoms? You think Cersei wouldn't march North to take it back?" 

The little bird frowned at him, and he sighed deeply. 

"I'm not saying you've no right to be angry." He leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. He expected her to flinch away, or look at him in disgust, but he actually felt her relax under his hand. "You're right, he shouldn't have pledged the North to a cause, any cause, without consulting with his council. But that council would have encouraged him to bend the knee. All it would've done is delay it by a moon or two." 

"I shouldn't have shouted at him in front of everyone." She whispered. 

"Bugger that, he's a cunt! You had every right shout at him." 

Sansa giggled, a true smile on her face now, and Sandor could've sworn he was dreaming. 

"There's no use fretting about shit you can't change." He said, feeling the burnt corner of his mouth twitch as he fought off a smile. "Focus on what you can do. Your brother can't unbend his knee, and even if he could, it would be unwise. He took the wrong path, but this is what's right." 

"Have you always been wise?" She arched an eyebrow. 

"Aye, what did you think my threats and insults were?" 

Her eyebrows raised in shock. "You meant to pass on wisdom?" She asked. 

"I know it didn't work-" 

"It did." She shook her head. "Truthfully, I didn't realize until much later, but everything you said was true. You've never lied to me. I just didn't know that you meant to help." 

He pulled his hand back from her shoulder and looked out at the water, trying to think of something to say. He could feel her expectant eyes on him, and it was shocking how deeply uncomfortable it made him, when for years the only thing he'd wanted was for her to look at him, to see him. 

"A hound will die for you, but never lie to you." He grumbled finally. 

She laughed softly, and he looked at her without meaning to. There was a sparkle in her eye that he hadn't seen in years, not since before her father's execution. 

"I don't think you're the Hound anymore." She mused. 

"Aye, mayhap I'm not." 

She leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. His breath caught as he looked down at her hand, then back at her face. 

"I must say I prefer Sandor Clegane." She said softly. He gaped at her for a moment and she giggled again, then held out her hand expectantly. "Help me up." 

He obeyed at once, taking her hand in his and supporting her weight as she rose to her feet, then stood as well. He marveled for a moment at how her small, soft, delicate hand felt in his, then realized he'd been holding on too long. He almost dropped her hand, but then realized that she hadn't pulled away either. 

"Do you remember the last time we were here?" She asked softly, staring at their joined hands. 

"Aye." He croaked. He didn't trust himself to say more. 

"I should've gone with you." She still didn't meet his gaze. "Everything would be different if I'd trusted you." 

"You were wise not to, little bird." He ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I was piss drunk and scared shitless, I never should've come here in the first place." 

"Why did you? Come here, I mean?" She looked up at him finally and his breath caught. 

"Because I was piss drunk and scared shitless." 

She frowned at him. "Didn't you just say you'd never lie to me?" 

He sighed, looking back at the water for a long moment before he spoke. "Leaving you here made me sick. I know I didn't do much to protect you, not as much as I should've. But I didn't want to leave you here with no one to look after you." He met her gaze again, and her eyes had softened. "I wish you'd come with me too." 

They stared at each other for another long moment, her hand still in his, before she dropped her gaze and pulled away. 

"No use fretting about what we can't change, right?" She said, smoothing her skirts. 

"Aye." He agreed. "Come along, little bird, before the bastard and the blonde bitch have my balls."


	4. Path Forward

Sandor felt awkward as he hovered around the edges of the tent. He'd been present at many war counsels, but none like this. Jon Snow and the Dragon Queen would be returning to Dragonstone, albeit briefly, before heading North. 

"We will march North with haste, but many plans are to be made while we journey." The Dragon Queen was saying now. Her eyes flashed to Sansa and Arya. "I'd like one of the Starks to join our travels, to represent the North on my counsel." 

"Arya shall accompany you." Sansa said immediately, staring resolutely at the map on the table they were all gathered around. 

"Sans…" Arya said softly, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. "You've seen more battles than I. The best course would be for you to join Jon, and I will return to Winterfell with Lord Royce and Litt… Lord Baelish. We can prepare the North for the coming battle." 

Sansa flashed a dangerous look at her sister and pursed her lips. 

"I agree with Arya." Snow said slowly. "She can wield the Stark name to prepare the North, but only you have knowledge about what Winterfell will need to withstand the battle." 

Sandor looked around at the other attendees of the meeting: Davos Seaworth, the translator, the leader of the Unsullied, Jorah Mormont, the Greyjoy boy, Brienne of fucking Tarth, the Imp, Littlefinger, Royce, and a few Dothraki who's names he'd never learned. 

Sansa met Jon's gaze for a few moments, then looked back at the map. Her face was blank as she seemed to consider, then she rose to her feet. 

"May we break for a few moments?" Sansa asked coolly. 

She didn't wait for an answer as she walked toward the mouth of the tent. She glanced over her shoulder and met Sandor's gaze for a moment, then ducked under the flaps out of sight. Sandor understood his silent summons, and all but shoved everyone out of the way in his haste to follow her. 

He saw her several paces away, between two tents, and hurried toward her. As soon as he was close enough, she took his hand and dragged him away, moving deeper into the camp before she circled back around until they were behind the war tent, but still far away. 

She dropped her hand and turned her body to face him, but her face remained downcast. 

"What is it?" He asked, resisting the urge to touch her. 

"I'm sorry, Sandor." She finally met his gaze, and he started at her words, giving her a bewildered look. "I know I've no right to ask anything of you." She continued, wringing her hands. 

He clasped his hands around both of hers, and she met his gaze with a grimace, as though anticipating a strike. 

"Whatever it is, ask me." His gravelly voice almost broke with the words, and he gave her hands a squeeze, not yet releasing them. 

"I can't send Arya North without protection." She began. "If Arya returns to Winterfell with Littlefinger and Royce, I must send Brienne as well." 

Sandor's brow furrowed. "You don't trust Littlefinger and Royce?" He asked. 

Sansa rolled her eyes in a very unladylike manner. "I trust Lord Royce, but he's loyal to Littlefinger. Only a fool would trust Littlefinger." 

"Good girl." He found himself saying. He wanted to kick himself, but the grin she flashed at his praise brought him up short. 

"If I send Brienne with Arya," she continued, "I leave myself unprotected." 

"You won't be." He shook his head. "You'll have your brother, and the Greyjoy." 

She shook her head. "They are loyal to Daenerys." She said. She took a deep breath, then met his gaze again. "Who are you loyal to?" 

His breath caught and he dropped her hands, taking a step back. He wouldn't dare let himself think she was asking what he thought. He wouldn't dare. 

"What do you ask of me, Lady Stark?" He managed to ask. 

"I ask for your protection. I ask you to shield my back and keep my counsel. Sandor," she stepped forward and seized his hands again. "I know you don't swear oaths, I know you don't make pledges, and I'm not asking you to." She looked up at him earnestly, briefly biting her bottom lip. "I just ask you to see me home to Winterfell. Protect me among these strangers, and then see me home. I ask nothing more." 

Sandor looked down at her for a long moment, then shook her hands off him and took a step back. He saw her face fall, and quickly drew his sword and dropped to one knee before her. 

"Lady Sanda, I freely offer my services." he began, laying his sword at her feet before looking up at her. "I will shield your back, and keep your counsel. I will give my life for yours, gladly, if it comes to that. My shield, my sword, my life, and my heart are yours." 

He began to rise, but her soft hand on her shoulder stopped him. She drew in a shaky breath. 

"And I vow that you shall always have meat and mead at my table, and a place by my hearth. I vow to ask no service of you that may bring you dishonor. I swear it, by the Old Gods, and the New. Arise, Sandor Clegane." 

He sheathed his sword as he clambered to his feet, then looked back at the girl. She squeezed his arm and gave him a watery smile. 

"Thank you, Sandor." She whispered. 

He shrugged and grunted, breaking her gaze as he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I won't tell anyone you swore me a vow." She grinned at him, and he couldn't help but smile back as she took his arm. 

She let him lead her back to the tent, and only pulled her hand from his arm when they could be clearly seen by those members who gathered around the fire awaiting her return. She ducked back into the tent without a word, and Sandor followed. She returned to her previous seat, and didn't acknowledge anyone else. The only difference was that Sandor followed and stood behind her chair, hand on the hilt of his sword, and glaring around at anyone who looked her way. 

***

Sansa fought a smile when Sandor followed her back to her seat: proof that he fully intended to honor his oath. She noticed Brienne and Arya, and especially Littlefinger, casting him curious glances, and she ignored them all. 

The meetings attendees filed back into the tent and took their places. Everyone's attention was on Sansa, and she rose to her feet. 

"I will accompany you to Dragonstone." Sansa announced, eyes on Jon. "Arya shall return to Winterfell to make preparations, accompanied by Lady Brienne, Lord Royce, and Lord Baelish." 

A murmur went around the table. 

"Lady Sansa," Brienne began slowly. "If I'm to return to Winterfell, who shall keep you safe?" 

"Sansa." Littlefinger began before anyone could answer. "I implore you to keep your counsel by your side in these troubled times." 

Arya opened her mouth, but Sansa silenced them all by raising her hand. 

"Clegane has just offered to accompany me on this journey, both to keep my counsel and guard my back. I shall travel to Dragonstone with him, and the rest of you shall return to Winterfell." 

The continued muttering around the table stopped at once when the Dragon Queen spoke.

"Excellent." She said with a tight smile. "Lady Arya, Lady Brienne, Lord Baelish, and Lord Royce, I trust you will speak with my leaders, Grey Worm, Rhakaro, and Ser Jorah, about the provisions my armies shall require. Lady Sansa and Ser Sandor, I look forward to becoming better acquainted with the both of you as we travel to Dragonstone." 

She looked expectantly at Jon, who swallowed heavily. 

"We leave at first light." He said as he glanced around the table.

Sansa swept away from the war table, out of the tent, with Sandor on one side and Arya on the other. She sighed a little when she felt Brienne, Royce, and Littlefinger following intently. 

"Clegane, you may retire." She said as she came to a stop near the mouth of her own tent. "Please meet me here at dawn." 

He bowed, which she'd never before seen him do, and quickly walked across the little courtyard they'd made, disappearing between the tents. 

"Lady Sansa," Littlefinger started at once. "I can't help but worry about what your presence with Clegane will do to your reputation and the North." 

Sansa raised an eyebrow. 

"My lady," Lord Royce spoke now, and she turned to face him. "I beg you allow me to send a few knights of the Vale to see to your safety. We cannot be too careful, and Clegane-" 

Sansa silenced them both again my raising her hand. 

"I appreciate your concern, my lords, truly." She began. "Lord Baelish, if my reputation of being a Lannister and a Bolton can be overcome, I daresay traveling with a Clegane, in the presence of my own brother, shall have little effect on my reputation. And Lord Royce, but you and your knights are needed in the North. Clegane has protected me since long before I met you, and believe me when I say he would fall upon his own sword before seeing harm come to me." 

Littlefinger looked furious, but Lord Royce bowed his head in acknowledgment of her words. She dismissed them both, and ducked into her own tent, accompanied by Arya and Brienne. 

"Well?" She asked as she sank onto her cot. "I assume you both object as well?"

Arya and Brienne exchanged a knowing glance before either spoke. 

"You're right to trust him, sister." Arya said. "He kept me safe for years. He's trustworthy." 

Sansa turned her indignant look from Arya to Brienne, who shifted uncomfortably. 

"I don't like leaving you with him, Lady Sansa." Brienne said slowly. "But you will be with your brother and the Greyjoy. If you trust Clegane to protect you, then I trust him as well." 

Sansa smiled. Arya and Brienne were the only people whose opinion on this matter concerned her, and her shoulders slumped in relief to hear that neither had an objection to her plan. 

She undressed herself with her back to Arya and Brienne. They were all girls, but the boy clothes they wore still made Sansa feel like she should hide her naked body in their presence. Once she was down to her shift, she wrapped herself in a dressing gown and sat on the edge of her cot, carefully brushing out her hair. Arya and Brienne sat just outside the tent, each sharpening their blades, when she heard Jon's voice asking for her. 

She exited the tent with her head held high before any of them could call for her. Jon was still in the armor he'd worn to the meeting, and silently offered his arm. She took it and let him lead her around the little yard they'd made with the camp, with a fire in the middle. 

"Clegane?" Jon asked after a few moments, frowning at her. 

"Clegane." She refused to let any expression show on her face. 

"Sansa…" Jon sighed, and Sansa pulled him to a halt. 

"He protected me." Sansa informed her brother. "He did everything he could to keep me safe after father died. He even tried to take me away." 

"Why didn't he?" Jon asked sharply. 

"I refused him." Sansa said evenly. "Something I've regretted every day since." 

Jon sighed. 

"Can't we bring Brienne as well?" Jon asked softly. "Or Arya?" 

"They'll both be needed to make the Northerners come to heel if I'm not there." She replied at once. "Worry not, brother. Sandor Clegane will keep me safe." 

Jon frowned at her, but she resolutely avoided his gaze as they continued their walk around the fire. He bade her goodnight when they returned to her tent, and she ducked inside at once, leaving Arya and Brienne sitting outside. 

She settled herself onto her cot and pulled her furs to her chin, trying to calm to storm in her belly at the idea that Sandor Clegane would be her sole confidant for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alone time in plain sight? I think so! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	5. The Ship

Dawn came sooner than Sansa would've liked. Arya shook her awake, then caught Sansa's wrist when she swung her arm around to slap the owner of unknown hands. 

"Sorry…" Sansa mumbled, dropping her hand and swinging her feet off the cot. 

"I'll be sure to warn Clegane." Arya smirked and Sansa scowled at her. 

Arya strapped her sword belt into place then ducked out of the tent, leaving Sansa alone to dress. Sansa stood, stretching carefully, then quickly donning her riding gown and breeches. All she wore anymore was black, and her riding clothes were no different; the dress pulled on like a robe then tied across her body, allowing her to sit with one leg on each side for stability rather than riding side saddle. She laced up her black boots, carefully sliding her dagger down the inside of one leg into the sheath she'd added herself. She hesitated, then added a steel armored bodice to protect her vital organs from a potential attack. She brushed her hair out again and styled it as she had yesterday, pulled back at her temples with a braided bun at the back of her head, leaving the rest to hang freely down her back. 

She pulled her riding cloak around her shoulders, packed her few belongings, then exited the tent. She glanced around and saw the Dragon Queens unsullied and Dothraki hurrying around to break down the camp. Jon, Theon, Brienne, Arya, Sandor, Jorah Mormont, and the Dragon Queen herself stood a short distance away, and all turned to look at her as she emerged from her tent. She raised her chin and walked across to meet them, taking her place beside Clegane, who gave her a subtle nod. 

"Good morning, Lady Sansa." Daenerys said kindly with a nod. "I trust you slept well?" 

Sansa raised an eyebrow at her pleasantries, then turned to Jon. "How will we get to Dragonstone?" 

"Queen Daenerys' fleet is in Blackwater bay. It's a short ride there, then we sail to Dragonstone." Jon said. 

"And this entire… entourage," she waved a hand at the Dragon Queen's armies, "will be riding with us to the bay?" 

"Aye, best to move together, I think." Jon said. 

Sansa grimaced and looked away. 

"What is it, sister?" Arya asked, and Sansa shook her head slightly. 

"The last time your sister was part of a conspicuous group marching through Flea Bottom, she was nearly raped." Sandor said in his gravelly voice. Sansa looked at him, and found him looking back with an odd expression on his face. "That's why I suggested that I might take you a different route, away from the danger." 

Jon and Arya exchanged a nervous look, then the Dragon Queen spoke again, her smile tightened. 

"I assure you, Lady Sansa, that you will be quite safe with my men." Daenerys said. 

"And how will you be traveling, your grace?" Sansa asked. "On horseback with us, or on the back of a dragon?" 

The blond woman frowned. Before she could answer, Littlefinger inserted himself into the group, Lord Royce on his heels. 

"Lady Sansa," Baelish simpered, seizing her hand and pressing a sloppy kiss to her knuckles. "I beg you to reconsider my offer from last night-" 

"That will be quite unnecessary, Lord Baelish." Sansa cut him off. "I maintain that your army and expertise will be of greatest use in Winterfell." 

"But Sansa," he squeezed her hand in both of his, "one can never be too safe, especially in the presence of…" he trailed off with a glance at Sandor. 

Sansa firmly pulled her hand from his. "In the presence of my brother, my father's ward, two armies, and a seasoned warrior?" She raised her eyebrow and Littlefinger frowned. 

"She's made herself clear, Littlefucker. Be on your way." Sandor grunted from behind her. 

Sansa suppressed a satisfied smile at the look on Baelish's face. 

"I will see you soon, Lord Baelish. Lord Royce. Please make haste." She said coolly. 

Littlefinger bowed and walked away. Royce gave her a warm smile and took her hand as well. 

"Be safe, my lady. See you at Winterfell." He said kindly, then followed Baelish. 

Sansa watched them go, then turned back to the group in front of her. 

"Clegane and I will take an alternate route." She said firmly, eyes on Jon. 

He glanced from her to Sandor and back again. 

"He'd fall on his sword before he let anything happen to her." Arya interjected, and Sansa looked at her. "She's safe with him, Jon." 

"Fine." Jon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Make haste then, get to the boats before the armies march at daybreak." 

"I'll be ready in 10 minutes, my lady." Sandor told her, bowing his head slightly before walking away. 

The Dragon Queen and Mormont left the group as well, speaking quietly. Jon and Theon moved forward. 

"Sansa, I'm not sure about this." Jon said. "I still think it's a better idea to send him north with Arya, and have Brienne along for your safety." 

"No." Sansa said firmly. "The Northerners know Brienne, her presence there is vital to keep Baelish in check." 

"Why is Baelish among your counsel?" Jon asked, narrowing his eyes at the man himself. 

"He won't be for long." Sansa said, earning a mischievous smirk from Arya and a confused frown from Jon. "Walk with me, please, Brienne. There is much to discuss before we part ways." 

… 

Sandor had tossed and turned most of the night. He'd come to this meeting hoping for a glimpse of the little bird, maybe a few words exchanged. He'd not thought she'd still have such faith in him to keep her safe. He was almost trembling with nerves as he saddled the biggest horse he could find. 

He led the horse back to the clearing at the center of the camp, and collected Sansa's bags from a Vale squire who was breaking down her tent, affixing them with his behind the saddle. 

The girl was speaking with Brienne and Arya, so Sandor hung back after catching her eye. He turned to the horse, patting his muzzle for something to do. 

"Clegane." 

He turned and saw Snow approaching him, looking weary. He grunted in acknowledgement. 

"My sister has great faith that you will protect her." The bastard said, looking up at him. Clegane just stared back at him. Snow sighed, glancing at Sansa then back at him. "She's been through too much for me to watch her suffer any more. Is her faith misplaced?" 

"It's not." He answered simply. 

Snow looked at him for a long moment, then sighed again. 

"Alright then, I'll see you on the ship." He walked away without another word, glancing over his shoulder at Clegane as he went. 

"What was that about?" The little bird was at his elbow suddenly. 

"Nothing, little bird. Just making sure I know he'll take my balls if I let anything happen to you." He said with a smirk. 

She frowned, then turned back to Arya and Brienne, embracing each of them in turn. 

"Be safe, I'll see you both soon." She said. 

"And you, my lady." Brienne bowed her head. 

Arya stared up at Clegane for a moment. "If he takes your balls, I'll take your cock." He said seriously. 

Sandor barked out a laugh and Arya smiled. 

"Come on then, little bird, my manhood is on the line." Sandor motioned to the horse. 

Arya and Brienne walked away, and Sansa took hold of the saddle and placed her foot in the stirrup. Sandor came behind her and wrapped her waist with his hands to help her up. She flashed a smile down at him, and he swung up behind her, kicking the horse into action immediately. 

Most of the city still slept, so it was quick work to reach Blackwater Bay. He felt Sansa shrink back against his chest slightly when they reached the street where the Bread Riots had begun, and he gave her forearm what he hoped was a soothing pat. They reached the bay and Sandor brought the horse to a halt, then swung down and led the horse closer to the dock. 

He helped Sansa down, then pulled down their bags and handed the reins of the horse to a waiting Dothraki man. He offered Sansa his arm and she accepted, letting him lead her down the dock. They boarded the ship at the end and found the Imp and the translator waiting on deck. 

"Lady Sansa!" Tyrion greeted. "I'm so glad you agreed to join us. Have you met Missandei of Naath? She's a translator and Daenerys's most trusted friend and advisor." 

Missandei bowed her head and Sansa smiled. 

"I don't believe we were properly introduced." Sansa said, extending her hand. "Sansa Stark of Winterfell." 

Missandei accepted her offered hand and returned the smile. 

"Her grace Queen Daenerys asked me to see to your chambers, Lady Sansa." Missandei said. "If you'll follow me." 

Sandor followed the women below deck, and Missandei led them to a room. It was quite small to be considered "chambers" and modestly furnished, but a far sight nicer than any guard's barracks he'd ever been given on a ship. 

"Thank you, Missandei. And where will my shield's quarters be?" Sansa asked. 

"Her grace did not specify, but I assume he will be with the guards on the other side of the ship." Missandei said. 

"No." Sansa said at once. "Have another bed and a privacy screen brought here, please. He can't very well guard me from across the ship." 

Missandei nodded and left the room. 

"Little bird?" Sandor questioned as he set down the bags. 

Sansa crossed the room and closed the door. 

"I hope you don't mind," she said as she turned back to him. "I don't feel safe with these people, I want you close by." 

He nodded, his throat suddenly feeling tight. She smiled at him, then picked up her bags and began unpacking her few possessions. Sandor stood awkwardly by the door as she flitted about. 

"You used to hum." He observed after a few minutes. 

"Sorry?" 

"You used to hum." He repeated.

"I don't anymore." She said stiffly, returning to her bag. 

Sandor understood she didn't want to say more and fell silent. After a few moments rummaging in her bag, she sighed. 

"I don't know how much you've gathered about my late husband from Jon and Theon." She said, not meeting his eyes. 

"Heard you were broken in." He rasped. "Heard you were broken in rough." 

"And he got what he deserved." She met his gaze. "I gave it to him." 

"How?" 

The corners of her mouth turned up. "Hounds." 

He barked a laugh at that, and the tension in the room broke as she laughed with him. 

"You've changed, little bird." He said fondly, still smiling slightly. 

"I had to." The smile dropped off her face. "It was the only way to survive." 

She abruptly turned away and continued unpacking, moving on to his bags and folding his clothes into the chest of drawers. 

A sharp knock on the door made her jump, and Sandor opened it, finding Snow on the other side. Anger was radiating off the smaller man and he glared up at Clegane. 

"I'd like a moment with my sister." He said through gritted teeth. 

He turned to Sansa for approval, and she frowned. 

"Come in, Jon. Please stay, Sandor." She said finally, turning back to the bags. 

Jon hesitated, then entered the room and went straight to Sansa. 

"There's no need to share your room, Sansa. I'm right across the hall, and Theon one room over." Jon said. 

"My decision on the matter is made." Sansa said smoothly. "I'd like my shield close enough to do his job." 

"But Sansa-" 

"But nothing, Jon!" Sansa rounded on him, her cheeks turning pink with her anger. "He was the only person who protected me after father died! Robb and my mother left me to rot in Kings Landing, left me betrothed to the man who executed our father on false charges of treason! He was the one who stopped me from jumping to my death when my fiance forced me to look at father's head on a pike, he was the one who covered me in his cloak when Joffrey had me beaten and stripped before the entire court, he was the one who came for me during a riot when I was being held down by five men who wanted to rape me." She took a deep breath and stepped away from her brother. "He stays here." 

She turned back to her unpacking, leaving Jon standing with his mouth agape. He composed himself after a moment, taking a step back and nodding. 

"Very well." Snow said, then quickly left the room. 

Sansa kept her back to him, stiff as a board, and only relaxed when she heard the door close. She sniffled and wiped angrily at her eyes, then sat on the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands. 

Sandor hesitated, then crossed the room and sat next to her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back as she cried softly, not saying anything. After a few minutes she sniffled again and wiped tears from under her eyes, then turned to look at Sandor. 

"Doesn't bother me what they say." He said gruffly, moving his hand back to his lap. "If you want me here, I'll be right here. I'll keep you safe." 

She gave him a little smile then leaned into his side, letting her head rest on his shoulder and reaching for his hand. She squeezed his hand in both of hers, and sniffled a couple more times. She sat up and cleared her throat, smoothed her skirts, then stood up and continued unpacking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Hope everyone is safe and healthy.


End file.
